Years ago when men used to curse and beat the ground with sticks, they called it witchcraft...now they call it golf.
Well, the Masters is over. Tiger didn't win, even though he did leave his therapy sessions long enough to play. He braved the crowds, the cameras and the questions. While I am greatly disappointed in his past behavior, I don't feel the need or the desire to know all the details. I'm too busy leading my own life, enjoying my short time here on this great earth to worry about who Tiger did or why he veered off course. I felt the same way about Brittany and Eliot Spitzer and John Edwards--folks who have everything except good old fashioned common sense. I mean, was Tiger really arrogant enough to think he could repeatedly cheat on his wife and it would be OK? Did he not once think of the consequences of his actions? Didn't he care that he was hurting another human being? The mother of his children, no less. Had the shoe been on the other foot and Elan jumping every Tom, Dick and Andre Agassi, poker-faced Woods, no doubt, would have been wearing a hang-dog expression while he fingered his putter.
We all have our moral standards. Some of us continually reach up to attain those lofty goals. Others have to pick the muck off their cletes to find them.